When the message from Masago arrived, declaring that the Daimio of Tsu was sinking into lowest debauchery, willing victim of a harlot, Nara thanked the gods, and rushed to his imperial master. The other item in the communication--concerning the position of his own daughter--was a trifle. She also must practise patience. She would be amply avenged for present torment at the same time as the Holy Mikado. Was not this grand news, well worth a little waiting--a little suffering? Had he not been right--he, the hoary one, the sage, the experienced, the prudent? They had waited, and the moment was at hand. In exultant joy he flung himself headlong on the mat, and embraced his master's feet. Of course the latter was glad that evil should befall his tyrant; but Nara was always more glib with tongue than sword. A little patience, quotha. For patience the times were out of joint. A little action now. Answers arrived from east and west, from north and south--some bellicose and ardent, some timid and time-serving. The Fountain of Honour deigned to come out of darkness like a snail out of its shell; but as he lay supported on his hand in the centre of the floor, his mien was so troubled, his young brow so puckered and scowling, that the kugés squatting around in a circle sat wistful, with heads on one side--motionless. For hours and hours he remained as inanimate as they--lost in gloomy thoughts and dumb abstraction. The prospect was too halcyon. The tyrant, firm in the toils of a low woman, might become sodden and besotted. What of the other--no less than he a Hojo--the idol of the army, bravest of the brave? The soul of loyalty (or his face belied him), he would stand by his brother, a tower of strength in an emergency. Plausible and garrulous and self-deceiving as old men are wont to be, Nara had been quite wrong in his estimate of General Sampei. He, the General, had appeared distressed at the proceedings of his feudal superior. And yet could it be denied that he had calmly attended and approved that shocking massacre,--had stood by with hands before him while infants were slaughtered,--had remained on the premises ever since, perfectly composed and comfortable? His face was a lying mask then. He was as bad, every bit, as his brother,--as much to be feared and hated; for since it was clear that he approved his acts, he would, of course, stand by him to the death.